A/N: Thank you all so much for your continued support — I'm so happy you enjoyed the last chapter! This one touches a moment from E2 of S1 — I always found it interesting how Ciel reacts to Sebastian getting shot. His first instinctive reaction is fear, even though at that point, he clearly knows that bullets cannot hurt Sebastian. Regardless, he still starts to scream his name before he remembers himself. I couldn't help but wonder how he would react the very first time it happened.

HiddenOtaku24, thank you so, so much for your beautiful words — and huh, I actually didn't know that about Sebastian the dog. I like this way more than my own theory, and even though my story is based on anime only, I'll probably edit that part now. It opens even more small arcs… Thank you!

I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Four: Game №1

Cinnamon and orange. Cinnamon and peppermint. Lemon and… raspberry?

Yes. Raspberry.

This could work.

"Seba…" Ciel started and stopped when Sebastian materialised right in front of him, even before he finished uttering his name.

How did he manage to move like this? Ciel hated being taken aback — and he hated when his orders were ignored.

"I told you to use the door," he said darkly. "I don't want you to just appear out of nowhere. What if someone sees you?"

"I would know if you had company, Young Master," Sebastian assured him, his lips stretching in a fake smile. "However, if it pleases you, I will only use the door from now on."

"Make sure you do. Unless there is an emergency," Ciel added. Sebastian liked twisting his orders too much, so he couldn't be trusted. "I have another order for you. Go and make candies — some with cinnamon and orange, some with cinnamon and peppermint, and some with lemon and raspberry. I'll need them within the next several hours."

The expression of indignant astonishment on Sebastian's face was so clear that Ciel lowered his head, hiding the beginning of a smile.

"I apologise, Young Master, but I cannot allow you to consume this many sweets," Sebastian said finally. "We have already discussed it. You feel sick after—"

"Yes, I know. I am not a child," Ciel growled, looking up again. Who did Sebastian take him for? After that last embarrassment, Ciel would never dine on candies or pastries again. And why would a demon watch his sugar intake in the first place? The mere notion was ridiculous.

"I'm not going to eat them all," Ciel explained. "But I want to create some special recipes for Funtom Corporation. The company is basically useless now because my f… predecessor didn't have time to develop it. It is very new and currently, practically no one is aware of it. I want to change that."

"You believe you will be able to run a company?" Sebastian asked, his eyebrows rising. "I won't pretend to know how it works, but you will have to do more than make up recipes and taste sweets that I make — surely you understand it?"

Ciel slammed his hand against the table, glaring. An ugly, vicious feeling twisted his insides at the sound of Sebastian's condescending tone and the words he had spoken, at the lack of respect they implied.

It seemed like Sebastian still refused to take him seriously.

Fine. They would see what he had to say in several months.

"You are right — you don't know how it works," Ciel sneered. "But I do. And what I do not know, I will learn. Funtom Corporation will become known and it will bring me profits. I will use your help in certain matters, so I suggest you learn what you can about operating a business like this."

"As you wish, my lord," Sebastian bowed without enthusiasm. "Would you like me to accelerate the process? I could ensure that Funtom Corporation is at the top of—"

"Sebastian," Ciel said slowly, satisfied with the steely notes that entered his voice. He leaned against his chair, studying Sebastian with as much coldness as he could produce. "What did I tell you about doing everything in a normal, human way? Is your memory so full of holes that you need me to repeat my orders several times until you remember them?"

Sebastian's jaw clenched, but that was the only evidence of his displeasure. He bowed his head again in a silent apology, and Ciel relaxed.

"You and I will work," he said curtly. "And we will work hard. I won't have anyone saying that I am not the one responsible for my success — not even you. You will help me because you are my servant, but I will be the one to give you orders and to control and organise everything. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, Master," this time, when Sebastian looked at him, Ciel could see the first flickers of interest in his eyes. Despite his penchant for overusing his powers, Sebastian seemed to delight in working to achieve results. If Ciel could get him to become genuinely interested in Funtom Corporation, its success would be even larger than he had estimated initially because whether or not he wanted to admit it, he needed Sebastian's assistance. He needed his insight and his advice, but he would never ask for anything if he felt that Sebastian waited, anticipated him to fail.

Sebastian's genuine investment was obligatory and Ciel would achieve it by any means necessary, even if he had to manipulate him.

In all these months, he started to learn how to do that without it being noticed. For a supposedly ancient demon, Sebastian could be surprisingly malleable — all Ciel had to do was to make some task seem especially shiny and interesting, and Sebastian focused on it with intensity of children fixated on a new toy.

It was almost funny.

"Well, why are you standing here?" Ciel asked. "I told you what candies to make. We will try with these three flavours and I will pick which version we will be producing first."

"I will start immediately," Sebastian assured him, and then his face became blank again, so quickly that Ciel was confounded by such a sudden change. "However," Sebastian said after a pause, "there is something I must inform you of first. Lau has sent you a letter. Apparently, someone in the underworld is dissatisfied with your decision to continue with your family's responsibilities. A hired killer has been dispatched to eliminate you. According to Lau, he or she will contact you and use an excuse to get into your house, and that person won't look immediately suspicious."

"Everyone is suspicious to me," Ciel said, eyeing Sebastian uncertainly. Someone hired an actual assassin to kill him? He did get his share of attackers — bandits, kidnappers, even burglars who thought that his house was empty… but someone professional enough to want to strike a conversation and get an invitation to his house? That was unusual.

That was scarier.

Ciel hunched his shoulders, frowning, feeling strangely intimidated.

He had just started his work in the underworld — and someone already wanted to kill him for that? If it weren't for Lau…

"Young Master?" Sebastian's voice tore him from his thoughts. Ciel glanced at him. Sebastian looked concerned — he even stepped closer, as if already prepared to shield him from the threat, and Ciel relaxed, instantly at ease.

He wasn't scared of anything — not with Sebastian by his side. With what he was doing, he was bound to have enemies. The more time would pass, the bigger their number would be. And if he couldn't help it… then he would make sure that his name was known by everyone in the underworld — known and feared.

"I can try to find out the identity of the killer before they make contact with you," Sebastian offered, still watching him attentively, and Ciel shook his head.

"No," he said. Now that he'd made the decision, his body began to vibrate in excited anticipation. "We will play a game, Sebastian. We will prepare something very special for our guest."

"A game, my lord?" undisguised surprise in Sebastian's voice made Ciel's grin widen.

"Oh, yes," he murmured, the gears in his mind turning already, one idea replacing the other. "If this killer differs from those idiots that come after me occasionally, then he or she might prove to be a worthier challenge. We could organise a whole performance — for instance, you might play the role of a witless old man whose biggest concern is the quality of the tea…"

"Old man?" Sebastian repeated, and he sounded so offended that for a second Ciel fell silent, taken aback by a rush of strange endearment that coursed through him.

What a ridiculous demon he had.

"I didn't mean it literally," he explained, rolling his eyes to show Sebastian just what he thought of his silliness. "But you will produce an impression of a useless, slow butler. I, on the other hand, will behave just the way this person must expect me to. We could…" Ciel thought about it for a moment. "We could set some goals. For example, I might try to play an idiot and make this killer follow me to the basement. It will be easier to get rid of them there — less noise and a smaller mess to clean afterwards."

"They won't go there," Sebastian noted. "No one in the underworld is entirely sure of what to expect from you, so regardless of your age, this killer will be cautious. They won't go to a place that looks like a trap, so basement might not be the best choice."

"Cautious or not, they will also be eager to finish their task early. The basement could look like a good opportunity for that."

"No one could possibly fall for such an obvious ploy."

"Want to bet?" Ciel smirked, and finally, Sebastian's eyes lit up with the same anticipation he himself was feeling.

"So you are indeed turning this into a game," Sebastian drawled thoughtfully. "Very well, Young Master. You prepare your part of performance and I, with your permission, will prepare mine."

"Oh?" Ciel peeked at him curiously. "Do you have something in mind?"

Sebastian's lips curled in a small, mysterious smile.

"I most certainly do," he said.

They didn't have to wait long. In two days, Ciel received a letter from someone calling himself Benjamin Rassford , claiming he was interested in sponsoring Funtom Corporation and offering to discuss it during his visit.

Ciel had to admit he was surprised. He had just started working on Funtom Corporation, so how this man could know about it already was a mystery. Nevertheless, he gave a perfectly polite and semi-enthusiastic reply, arranging a meeting — and then finalising his plans with Sebastian.

The depth of his own excitement worried Ciel. Logically, he thought he shouldn't look forward to something like this — he wasn't particularly fond of the massacre Sebastian was engaging in from time to time, when the intruders came. Now, though, when he was also participating, he couldn't deny the allure. The sense of power that was filling him at the mere thought of tricking the murderer and seeing shock and confusion in his eyes as life bled away from him.

Ciel had been a witness to this in that longest, coldest month of his life, when he had first met Sebastian.

He wondered if participating in demise of Benjamin Rassford would feel as satisfying.

Reading Sebastian was difficult, but if he had to, Ciel would say that his butler was also excited. The idea of turning murder into a game seemed to delight him – or maybe there was something else, too, because the way he kept watching Ciel was… strange. Sebastian's eyes were both contemplative and sinister, and while Ciel refused to feel unease, worry still gnawed at him, whispering that Sebastian was planning something. Something he wouldn't share with him even if Ciel tried to ask.

It made the time of his studies even more excruciating.

"Wrong," Sebastian snapped, sending him a narrow-eyed look. "This is the third mistake you have made today. This is unacceptable. Your hands, please."

Ciel glared at him before obeying, grimacing even before the sharp sting of pain burned through his palms.

It's not that he disliked French, or Sebastian's manner of teaching. Sebastian was a good teacher — in these months, he managed to teach him more than Ciel had learned in the previous years. There was also something vaguely fascinating in how Sebastian transformed as he took the role of a teacher, how his voice deepened, became colder and demanding. Ciel felt almost compelled to do good, and even if his instinct to obey was concerning, he knew it was for the best. He did have a lot to learn, and Sebastian's approach was definitely working.

Learning French was obligatory. Ciel could imagine how many opportunities would open for him once he was able to communicate in it flawlessly, but today, his thoughts were far from his lesson.

He wanted the game to start.

He wanted to know what Sebastian was planning.

Glancing at the clock carefully, Ciel tried to focus on the letters in front of him, recalling everything he knew about French subjunctive.

Je veux que vous dansez, he wrote, then stopped, frowning.

He wasn't sure how to translate the rest of the sentence. He wasn't sure that what he'd written was correct in the first place.

…If he was right and Sebastian was planning something that he didn't wish to discuss with him, then it was most likely something concerning him directly. Something against him. Otherwise, why would Sebastian keep it a mystery?

He was plotting. Sometimes Ciel thought that he was always plotting something, and that one day, he would wake up and Sebastian wouldn't obey him at all. That he would just grin at him, slowly and darkly, before breaking every bone in his body, smiling wider at his screams, finally forcefully taking his soul while he was still in agony.

Shuddering, Ciel finished his translation and pushed the piece of paper to Sebastian. Sebastian took it, examining the lines, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

"Wrong," he said shortly. "Your concentration is abysmal today. Hands open."

Oh.

That was going to hurt. His hands were already burning after all strikes he had received within the last hour — adding more would probably feel hellish.

But it was nothing in comparison to the pain that had been inflicted on him before.

Ciel Phantomhive wasn't scared of physical pain. Not anymore.

Clenching his jaw, Ciel held out his hands, staring at Sebastian's pointer grimly. He hated being hit with this thing. Pity that Sebastian seemed to have grown fond of it lately.

A pause stretched, and when nothing happened, Ciel looked up in surprise.

Sebastian was frowning, staring at his hands. They were shaking slightly, protesting against the treatment they'd been receiving, and Ciel glowered at them before glancing at Sebastian again.

"Well?" he asked impatiently. "I don't have all day."

Sebastian hesitated. His frown deepened and a shadow of confusion flickered across his face before he schooled it.

"That's enough for today," he said finally. "We will continue the day after tomorrow. However, I expect you to translate the first story from here until then," Sebastian dropped a book in front of him and Ciel stared at him, torn between annoyance and surprise.

What had come over Sebastian? He had never refrained from punishing him before, when Ciel deserved it. And he certainly deserved it now.

On the other hand, Sebastian's punishments were never quite as painful as today — because Ciel rarely deserved to be hit so many times in a row.

Collecting his things, Ciel risked a quick glance in Sebastian's direction. He was no longer frowning but he was still looking at Ciel's hands, the air around him faintly displeased.

Did Sebastian not like seeing him in physical pain?

Interesting.

Wanting to test his theory, Ciel cradled one of his hands to his chest, cringing inwardly from embarrassment. It was awkward. Unbecoming. Pathe…

All thoughts faded when Sebastian approached him in several quick steps and took his hand, examining it, the frown returning to his face.

"I will bring some ice for it," he said.

Ciel stared after him long since Sebastian disappeared, his mouth hanging open.

He was shocked. His hands didn't hurt badly enough to warrant ice treatment, but if Sebastian wanted to do it, Ciel wasn't going to stop him — he would gladly observe this strangeness while it lasted.

He was pleased. For Sebastian to be bothered by something as insignificant, to refuse to hit him again because he thought it was too much…

Yes, Ciel was pleased.

Perhaps too pleased.

Dangerously so.

"Earl Phantomhive, I presume? It is a pleasure to meet you."

Benjamin Rassford was a tall, middle-aged man with a smile that emanated friendliness — a very fake kind of it.

Ciel nodded, offering his hand and trying to appear flustered. Sebastian was standing behind Rassford — a dark, comforting shadow, and a brief look at him revealed that he was entirely focused on his task. His eyes were fixed on Rassford's back, tracking his slightest movements, and while he appeared relaxed, Ciel knew that this would change instantly if Rassford were to suddenly attack him.

Despite all his flaws, Sebastian was protective of him. Even if it was his soul that he cared about, not Ciel himself, it still sent wave after wave of warmth through Ciel's body.

Shaking his head to clear it from unwanted thoughts, Ciel smiled at Rassford and gushed, "I was so happy to receive your letter! I was just planning to look for sponsors for my company. I thought it would take me at least several months, but then you contacted me with your offer… How did you know about Funtom Corporation — it's not even popular, not at the moment? What offer are you considering? I would like to have—"

"Young Master," Sebastian interrupted him gently, throwing an apologetic look at Rassford. "You shouldn't keep your guest here."

"Oh… right," Ciel bit his lower lip in fake embarrassment, rubbing his hands so nervously that he almost giggled at the terrible awkwardness of it all.

Rassford, the fool he was, relaxed, smiling indulgently.

"It is fine," he assured. "I understand it must be difficult for you to get used to your new responsibilities — after all, you are still a child."

And you are a dead man still walking, Ciel thought before letting his shoulders slump.

"Yes," he murmured. "I apologise for my manners. Sometimes I let the excitement get the best of me. It's just your offer… my company… that is…" Ciel blushed, hanging his head. He glanced at Sebastian from under his lashes to check his reaction, and Sebastian raised his eyebrows in obvious amusement, looking surprised and… impressed?

Satisfied, Ciel looked at him openly now, pouring all helplessness and vulnerability into his gaze and making sure Rassford witnessed it.

Some strange emotion crossed Sebastian's face, but in the next second, he stepped forward, playing the courteous, embarrassed butler.

"Please follow me," he said, moving towards the living room. "I will serve tea and you will be able to discuss your offer with Young Master, Mr. Rassford."

"Of course," Rassford said smoothly. He clearly dismissed Ciel as unworthy and fixed his gaze on Sebastian, probably determining whether or not he posed any threat.

So far, everything was going according to their plan. Rassford was bound to be suspicious, having heard about Ciel's success with locating and dismantling the new smuggling ring and wondering if he had been lucky or dangerous. Now, as he discarded the latter idea, it was only logical to focus on Sebastian, Ciel's right hand, wondering if he was the one behind their successful mission.

As the tea was served and their discussion started, Ciel could see that the last pieces of Rassford's suspicions were dissolving. His look lost its sharpness and he started to speak almost lazily, watching Sebastian with obvious contempt.

Ciel found it strangely irritating but he hid it well, smiling with and without reason, pretending to be an overexcited child whose life-goal was to produce as many sweets as humanly possible — and then eat them all.

Sebastian was also excellent in his role. His movements were much slower than usual, which made him look harmless and almost clumsy at times. He hovered over Rassford and Ciel with a worried expression, asking again and again if they needed something, as if concerned about the outcome of their negotiations more that Ciel pretended to be himself, wanting everything to be perfect and failing in the process.

The second-rate butler of a spoiled child. Just what they had decided to portray.

"Sebastian, leave us alone!" Ciel snapped finally. He was getting bored with this meaningless conversation — it was time for the next step. Time to prove that he could trick Rassford into following him to the basement — the basement that he would never get to leave. "Go and make some more sweets. And dinner, too. I am perfectly capable of having a conversation without your assistance! Mr. Rassford and I will make a deal as it is. Right, Mr. Rassford?" Ciel stared at his clueless guest hopefully and was rewarded by a condescending smirk.

"Yes, I don't doubt we will reach an agreement soon," Rassford said. Beaming, Ciel turned to Sebastian.

"Leave," he ordered. "And don't bother us, not until I call for you. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian bowed, a flawless picture of devotion, before walking out of the room.

Ciel stretched in his place, yawning and then quickly covering his mouth with his hand.

"Apologies," he murmured. "So… where were we?"

"You were going to tell me about the new flavours you have developed," Rassford said, his eyes flickering to the door where Sebastian disappeared, probably making sure he had indeed left.

"Oh, yes!" Ciel perked up. "Why don't you taste some for yourself? I have an entire collection that you could choose from!"

"Indeed?" Rassford looked interested. "Where is that?"

"Follow me," Ciel jumped from his chair and moved to the door. Opening it, he let Rassford come first. It earned him a confused expression, so Ciel started chatting immediately, hoping to distract Rassford from his mistake.

He couldn't allow himself to turn his back to a killer. Sebastian was powerful, but if Rassford moved quickly and abruptly enough, who knew what might happen. Now, at least, Ciel could watch him, and if he saw Rassford's hands move, he'd know what it meant.

And he would call Sebastian.

"Here," he said finally, stopping next to the brown door.

"A basement?" Rassford asked slowly, and Ciel nodded, trying to appear casual.

"Sebastian said that I couldn't eat them all and that we had to keep them away from light for the time being. Which ones would you like to try first? With orange or with mint? Or chocolate and strawberry ones?"

This time, Ciel did turn his back to Rassford, coming down the stairs slowly. The basement was mostly dark — the only source of light was a small window, and Ciel moved toward it, counting in his head.

Two.

Four.

Six.

When he reached eight, the door above him closed, and he grinned in triumph before turning to Rassford.

"Why did you close the door?" he asked innocently and gasped when he saw a gun pointed at him.

"I had a more elaborate scheme in mind but you have made my job easier," Rassford said, smirking arrogantly. "You don't have a lot of servants, do you, little Earl? With your butler away and us locked here, no one will hear the gunshot. I might even keep this identity — I'll just return to your living room and pretend that you have gone to the basement by yourself, with someone already waiting for you there."

"That would be a very weak alibi," Ciel noted, suddenly bored. He had done what he and Sebastian had bet on — he'd brought this idiot here. Now it was time to end the game. "Scotland Yard would check your background and realise immediately that you are in no position to support me financially. Your excuse to get into my house would be ruined and you would become a primary suspect."

"What?" Rassford gaped at him, so flabbergasted that Ciel couldn't fight his own smirk.

"Please," he scoffed. "Did you really think a fool that I pretended to be would be able to solve a case? It would take—"

He didn't finish because a choked sound interrupted him, coming from one of the dark corners. Frowning, Ciel glanced there.

Sebastian stumbled forward, looking so terrified that for a second, Ciel actually became concerned.

"Please, don't hurt the Young Master," Sebastian said, staring at Rassford. "He is just a child. It is not his fault that the Queen forces him to do her bidding."

Ciel bristled, clenching his fists in a burst of genuine anger. Game or not, Sebastian had to watch his tongue. This was taking it too far.

"What are you doing here?" Rassford asked, perplexed. "You were supposed to be in the kitchen."

"I had to pick some ingredients from here," Sebastian said, his voice trembling, and Ciel didn't know if he felt amused or disturbed.

He didn't like hearing fear in Sebastian's voice. It made him uneasy, filling him with tension and anxiety he despised.

There was no point in pretending any longer. What was Sebastian doing?

"Young Master never wanted to be the Queen's Watchdog," Sebastian continued. "If you leave now, we won't tell anyone."

Ciel snorted and Rassford echoed it.

"Sorry, butler," he said coldly. "Your Master's time is up. I didn't want to kill you, it wasn't my task, but seems like you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyway, I thought you would be pleased if you didn't have to deal with such an annoying brat all the time."

"He is my Master," Sebastian said softly and Rassford laughed.

"Not anymore," he uttered before aiming the gun at Ciel. His finger pressed against the trigger when Sebastian exclaimed "No!" and jumped in front of Ciel, right when the gunshot went off.

Ciel couldn't see whether the bullet had hit him or not. It couldn't – surely Sebastian wasn't stupid enough to dive in front of a bullet like that. He had probably caught it, or had managed to break Rassford's gun, or…

But Sebastian staggered, letting out a terrible noise. Then he collapsed and Ciel stared at him wide-eyed.

His heart stopped. There were no other words to describe it. Suddenly, he was full of nauseating bile — it burned through him, sending a thick wave of vomit to his throat, and the need to spew it became so unbearable that Ciel pressed his hands against his mouth, choking.

"Se… Sebastian," he whispered. His voice shook. His hands shook. His legs shook as well, threatening to buckle under him.

He didn't notice how he dropped to his knees, reaching out to touch Sebastian's chest and recoiling when his hand collided with something warm and sticky.

Blood. Sebastian was bleeding.

Ciel had never seen him bleed — not like this. Sebastian had dealt with countless intruders but he had never, never been hurt. He was a demon — he was faster, stronger, more powerful. How could a simple gun reduce him to such a state?

"Sebastian!" Ciel called harshly. "Get up! Sebastian!"

Nothing happened. Nothing.

His breath hitched, and Ciel touched Sebastian again, disregarding blood this time.

He couldn't get a grip on his thoughts. He couldn't even begin to set them in order and make any semblance of plan. Dimply, he remembered Rassford and his gun, but his self-preservation instincts didn't kick in. All Ciel could see was Sebastian, bleeding, dead, and terrible emptiness that gripped him reminded him of December.

His parents, dead. His servants, even his dog — everyone frozen; shells, not people.

Days in captivity. Children around him — tortured and killed, one by one, day after day.

Loneliness. Terror.

Everyone was leaving him, always. No one stayed. And now Sebastian…

Sebastian promised. How could he die? How could he die — protecting him?

No. No, it wasn't possible. It wasn't.

"Didn't know your attachment was that strong, kid," Rassford drawled mockingly. "He's just a butler."

Ciel looked at him slowly, still shocked.

Was it really over? His revenge. His plans. Over some… game? Because of this insignificant worm?

Rassford aimed at him again and Ciel just stared. He thought he should be angry, furious, maybe even hysterical, but all he felt was numbness. Caught between shock and disbelief, he couldn't even breathe, never mind speak.

"Goodbye," Rassford said tonelessly, but before he could fire, a loud sigh pierced the silence.

Stunned, Ciel watched how Sebastian started to move, stretching his limbs as if from a lengthy sleep. Finally, he stood up, studying the hole in his chest curiously.

"Your gun is rather old, Mr. Rassford," he noted, his voice brimming with disapproval. "To be honest, I expected something newer. I am already familiar with the impact of this exact type of bullets."

Ciel's vision turned black for a second. His ears filled with the thudding of his pulse as he stared at Sebastian, unable to believe his eyes.

He was alive.

He was alive.

He was alive.

Ciel must have made some sort of sound because Sebastian glanced at him, his eyes amused.

Amused.

The bastard thought this was funny.

Ciel barely noticed how Sebastian moved to Rassford. He didn't pay attention to the loud, horrified scream, to the sound flesh being torn. To the thud that must have signified Rassford's death.

Ciel didn't care. His heart was still beating erratically, flashes of nightmares flickering before his eyes, making him gasp for breath, confusing his realities.

His dead parents, surrounded by orange flames.

No, the basement. He was in the basement. There were no flames here.

Dead children around him, their empty eyes staring at him accusingly because Ciel lived and they didn't. Their blood splattered everywhere as a constant, inevitable reminder of what was waiting for him.

No, he was safe. Not for long, but for now. No one would touch his body — it was his soul that would be eventually destroyed.

Dead Sebastian. And with him, Ciel's every hope. Dead. Shattered.

No, Sebastian was here. He was kneeling in front of him, breaking into his personal space, his eyes half-closed in expression of endless pleasure. He was breathing in deeply, as if he was… enjoying this. As if he was actually drinking in Ciel's anguish. As if he found the taste of his pain irresistible.

Monster. He was a monster. An utter, despicable monster.

Relief, fury, and disgust were warring for dominance. Ciel didn't know what he wanted more — to stay like this, in Sebastian's proximity, assuring himself that he was indeed alive… to slap him, to pry the gun from Rassford's dead fingers and shoot him again, and again, and again… or to flee — far from here. From his embarrassing breakdown. From another one of humiliations he had only himself to blame.

Of course Sebastian wouldn't die from a simple human bullet. He was a demon. A goddamn demon who must have lived for hundreds of years already, who must have served countless masters and who had been shot numerous times.

People couldn't kill demons. It was impossible. And yet he still fell for it despite knowing that Sebastian had been planning something — something to test him.

He had failed the test. Instead, he had given Sebastian an unplanned feast, letting him feed on his pain.

Sebastian's eyes were still half-closed in bliss, the smile on his lips so otherworldly that it chilled Ciel to the bones.

Licking his lips, Ciel desperately tried to gather his thoughts and to determine the best course of actions. Visions of the past were still trying to break through his resolve, making it difficult to focus, to remove the image of unmoving, bleeding Sebastian from his mind.

Sebastian almost purred, leaning even closer.

"Call my name," he whispered, and this time, it was too much.

"Get away from me, demon!" Ciel hissed, pushing him away with all strength he possessed. Shaking, he managed to stand up, trying to ignore a small pool of blood under his feet — Sebastian's blood. Probably still warm. "You…"

"Your order has been fulfilled, my lord," Sebastian stood up with him, touching his hair affectionately. His touch was tender, but there was so much vicious hunger burning in his eyes that Ciel felt sick.

"Don't touch me," he breathed out. "You… you…"

He didn't have the right words. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't making him look even more pitiful.

"I'm touched that you were worried about me, Young Master," Sebastian uttered, his gentle voice contradicted by his predatory, amused stare. "I wondered about that. I wondered how you would react."

"Well, I hope you sated your curiosity," Ciel tried to speak coldly but he wasn't sure he was successful. His voice continued to tremble. "I admit, you have taken me aback. For a moment, I thought you were dead and that Rassford would kill me — because of your incompetence."

"I would never let anything happen to you," Sebastian reassured him, but after what he'd done, his words sounded like a mockery.

"You'd better keep this promise — or you will never have my soul," Ciel warned, raising his chin defiantly. "Clean everything up and get rid of the body. The game was not nearly as interesting as I hoped it would be."

Turning away, Ciel moved up the stairs, feeling Sebastian's eyes on his back and praying that he wouldn't say anything.

He had to get to his room. As soon as possible.

He had to feel safe.

When the door closed after him, Ciel collapsed, hugging his knees to his chest and breathing deeply.

In. Out. Slowly. There was nothing to fear. It was just Sebastian's stupid test, and even if Ciel had failed, it didn't change anything. Sebastian was still alive and he was still his butler. Next time, Ciel would be prepared.

He would be all right.

Absently, he wondered how many times he had to repeat it to believe his own words.